


How You Gonna Pay For

by voxangelus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bottom!Lestrade, D/s, Dirty Talk, Dom!Sherlock, Edging, Established Relationship, M/M, Sherstrade, sub!Lestrade, top!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2242161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxangelus/pseuds/voxangelus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six weeks is an awfully long time, if you're counting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How You Gonna Pay For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyElayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyElayne/gifts).



“Stop.” 

The command rang in Greg’s ears as he snatched his hand away from his cock with a pained groan. 

“What was that, Lestrade? Did you have something to say to me?” 

Fuck. “No, sir,” he managed to gasp, hands grasping at thin air, at the sheets, at anything to keep him from succumbing to the raging need to touch himself again. 

“I didn’t think so,” Sherlock growled, long pale fingers stroking Greg’s shaking thigh. “You wouldn’t dare. How long has it been for you now, Greg? How many weeks since you’ve earned the privilege of coming?” 

“Si-six weeks, sir,” Greg panted. 

“Six weeks, all because you thought I wouldn’t find out that you disobeyed me, because you thought you knew better than I did, isn’t that right? Six weeks since you’ve been able to keep right on tugging at your cock like the ill-mannered and disobedient slut you were when I first took you in hand,” Sherlock went on, his voice curling like a wisp of smoke into Greg’s ear. “If you want to come tonight, I suggest you mind your manners.” 

He glanced down at Greg’s swollen, rock-hard cock and delicately traced a fingertip over the shiny, purpled head - a whisper of a touch, but in Greg’s oversensitized state, it was akin to being caressed by fire. “No, my own, I don’t think you can be trusted. Hands on the headboard.” 

Greg obeyed immediately, desperate to feel his master’s touch on his cock again, desperate to come. It had been a blissfully hellish six weeks, edging himself over and over again every night on Sherlock’s instructions. Often, Sherlock would join him, either watching and directing, or tying him down and subjecting him to extended sessions of tortuous teasing. As agonizing as those nights had been, Greg preferred them, loved being the focal point of Sherlock’s intensity. Master had refused to fuck Greg’s arse while he was being denied, but most of their sessions in the last six weeks had ended with his cock down Greg’s throat. He shuddered at the memory, wondering if this session would end the same way. 

“Very good, Lestrade,” Sherlock purred, wrapping soft, fleece-lined cuffs around Greg’s wrists and ankles, securing him to the bed. “Just a bit more now,” he murmured, and Greg gasped as those long fingers wrapped around him. He was impossibly hard, and it was was so difficult to keep from bucking his hips up into Sherlock’s grasp. “So eager after so long,” Sherlock said lightly, his hand moving excruciatingly slowly along Greg’s length. “So ready to thrust, to let your hindbrain take over and fulfill its evolutionary impulse.” He swiped his thumb through the gathering bead of fluid at Greg’s tip. 

Greg bit his lip, unable to stop the low whine which escaped from his throat, but Sherlock only laughed, nuzzling along Greg’s jawline as he stroked him slowly. Already his bollocks were drawn up tight to his body, muscles clenching in preparation around the plug in his arse that irritatingly never quite got close enough to his prostate - and then Master’s hand was gone and his mouth was on Greg’s, not so much kissing as devouring. Greg strained against his bonds, seized with the need to be as close as possible, to fill every one of his senses with his master, until nothing else existed. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Sherlock lamented, pulling back and shaking his head before starting all over again, hand lightly wrapped around Greg’s dick and pulling away after a few seconds. Greg rather thought the opposite - that Sherlock would be the death of him, instead. But oh, what a way to go. 

“Once more, pet - this time, I’m going to let you come,” he promised, stroking Greg’s sweat-soaked hair. “You’ve been so good for me these past few weeks, love, so good. First, you’re going to come for me, and then I’m going to pull out your plug and fuck you into the mattress,” Sherlock continued. “Do you want that, Greg?” 

Did he want that? Fuck yes, he wanted that. “Please,” he managed, barely more than a whimper, “Please, sir!” And then Sherlock’s warm, slick hand was around his cock, and for all the anticipation, Greg knew it would be all over far sooner than he wanted. 

“Look,” Sherlock commanded, and Greg looked down at the hand on his cock, the sight almost enough to bring him off right there. “Work for it, slut,” Sherlock murmured. “Fuck my hand if you want to come.” 

That was all the encouragement Greg needed to to thrust up into his master’s loose grip, watching the head of his cock bob up and down in Sherlock’s fingers.

“Are you going to come for me? Let go, pet. Come for me, _now_ ,” Sherlock demanded.

He could do nothing but obey the command, his orgasm surging through him like an electric shock, spurting over Sherlock’s fingers and his own stomach as he moaned, floating blissfully on the sensation. Greg felt Sherlock removing the bonds at his ankles and the heat of Sherlock’s body as he knelt between his thighs, tugging at the plug in his arse with a twisting motion. Greg groaned, and then the plug was gone. He felt Sherlock’s fingers replace it, slick with fresh lube. 

“You should see your arse, all soft and wet and open for me,” Sherlock said huskily, sliding his fingers out with an obscenely wet ‘pop’. “Just begging to be stuffed full of cock.” He teasingly slid the head of his prick against Greg’s rim. “Is that how it is, slut? So eager to take any cock?” 

“No! Yours, sir,” Greg panted, looking up at Sherlock. “Only yours!” 

“That’s fucking right,” Sherlock said, locking eyes with Greg as he slid into him with a possessive growl. “You’re mine.” 

Greg shivered at his tone, captivated by the cool fire in those pale eyes as Sherlock fucked him relentlessly. He grasped at the straps holding his wrist cuffs to the bed, arching to meet every one of Sherlock’s thrusts, trying to make clear his joy and relief at being joined with his master again in this way after so long. “Please, sir, my wrists,” he pleaded, “may I touch you?” 

Sherlock’s eyes softened at Greg’s request, and he stilled for a moment, reaching up to unbuckle the restraints, pressing a kiss to the inside of each of Greg’s wrists as he released him. “I’ll be quite put out if you don’t,” he murmured, pushing Greg’s thighs apart so he could more easily move over him, close enough for caresses and slow, deep kisses as he fucked him. “Can you come again like this?” he purred into Greg’s ear. 

Greg nodded, unable to manage anything more than a soft moan of assent. The angle of Sherlock’s thrusts was almost perfect. When Greg wrapped his leg around Sherlock’s waist, he cried out with a high, keening moan as Sherlock hit his sweet spot over and over again. His cock was stiff again between them, sticky with sweat and drying come, and he desperately tried to rub up against Sherlock’s stomach as they moved together. 

Sherlock groaned and kissed him savagely, biting at his lower lip the way Greg absolutely loved. “Now, pet, now,” he urged Greg, his rhythm beginning to falter. The desperation in his voice combined with the sweet friction brought Greg off again, clutching at Sherlock’s back as he rode out his second orgasm of the night. Seconds later, Sherlock stiffened, biting at Greg’s shoulder as he came, panting heavily. 

“Fuck, that was intense,” Sherlock murmured, nuzzling into Greg’s neck with a contented sigh. Greg could only murmur a quiet hum of agreement as he lay there, deliciously exhausted and feeling so very used. 

After a moment, Sherlock went and got a flannel to clean them up, then climbed back into bed beside Greg, curling around him with a protective, affectionate air.

**Author's Note:**

> Written (very late) for a bid in the DashCon fic auction. I figured since the con itself was such a mess, I could at least make sure I gave LadyElayne her money's worth ;) 
> 
> Title is from Warren Zevon's "The Sin". 
> 
> The prompt was Sherstrade edging, with dominant Sherlock. 
> 
> Thanks to @luvsev for the beta :) 
> 
> If anyone feels inclined to write a remix from Sherlock's perspective, I would LOVE that. 
> 
> Wanna be friends? You can find me at http://foxy-voxy.tumblr.com :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [This Is How You Pay For](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3867049) by [gardnerhill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill)




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